Askari
by Kovukono
Summary: A leopard's mother dies when he is a cub, leaving him to fend for himself and his brother. Fortunately for him, he's found by the Askari, a travelling group of rogues of all species, who only have one real reason to live: war.
1. Prologue

It wasn't meant to happen this way. None of it was. I'm sick of it, the whole damn thing. I'm done. It's just hard to realize that the Commander is gone. I mean, it was routine. We would have been fine, mostly. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Okay, I'm probably not making much sense. Here's what happened. We're all going down into the valley, we know they're down there, and we're ready for them. It's just a whole bunch of animals. The king was right; yes, there was a rebellion being planned, and yes, his son was at the head of it, and yes, he wants them all dead, but that doesn't really mean much to me. I'm an Askari. Point me at the enemy, and stay out of my way.

So we rush down there, and even though they weren't expecting us, they put up a good fight. But we kill them all, and still don't lose a single one of us. We work together, they don't. We're all brothers, they aren't.

We decide to take a quick rest after the killing's done. In other words, the Commander said, "Hold here." We're all hyped up; we don't need any extra distractions. Yes, we may lose that fighting edge we gained for those few moments by waiting, but we're more careful this way. Then a half-grown cheetah cub comes out of hiding. You can tell just by looking at him that he's not the brightest one around.

"Aka sibu!" he said. I had no idea what the words were. They spoke only Royal around here. We needed a translator for everything. Luckily the king spoke common, so that helped. But the cub's words are just another point of his stupidity. He can't even conjugate. I'm not really one to talk, though. I don't speak a word of Royal. I had Myrn tell me what it meant later. But there the cub is, just yelling at us. I actually felt sorry for the poor guy, now. "Aka sibu!"

Myrn went to him accompanied by Junra, both smiling, Myrn understanding fully what the cub is saying. "What?" Myrn said.

"Aka sibu!"

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you."

"Aka sibu! Aka sibu!"

"Sorry!" Myrn leapt on him with Junra, both of them making short work of the cub.

When they finally back off of him, Junra turned to Myrn and asked, "What'd he say?"

"Look, you missed one!" Myrn laughed.

The Commander watched both of them, stone-faced. He normally didn't allow this kind of behavior. But the king had made it clear he wanted the rebels cleared out, in the most brutal fashion possible. Even his son. The Commander didn't approve of that. But the king had offered us a place in his kingdom temporarily, and we took it. We do as he asks. But the Commander had had enough for now.

"Alright, on your paws and move it! _Now!_"

We all shift it. We're all concerned by the tone in his voice. I look on the hills of the valley and I see why. It turns out the rebellion is a whole lot bigger than we thought.

"Move it! Move it!"

We all start running, the roars of the rebellion coming down after us. We have no place to run but down the center of the valley. They start coming down the sides, and we slice through the ones in our way by reflex. It's all by reflex. And we all keep in mind the Commander's strictest order, the one he pounds into our head every job we take. _No heroics_. We can see the valley leveling out, but they're practically on top of us. But we could have made it. I'm sure we could have.

The Commander didn't think so.

He spurred us on with one final "Move!" I turned to look at him, the last thing he intended anyone to do. He had turned around and was going to actually try to face all of them to buy us time. There was no way for him to survive that.

"Sir!" I yelled.

Myrn clipped me on the shoulder. "You heard the Commander, move!"

I moved, hating it every step of the way. "No heroics" my ass. If he had lived, the Commander would have given himself a strict talking-to, given himself a beating he would have remembered, and would have put himself on recon for the next three jobs. He loved that rule, he lived by it. We all did. But there he was, trying to turn back the entire tide of animals.

We ran. We waited when we were done. He didn't come. We all had our little ways of dealing with it. I went by myself and wept. I loved the Commander. We all did. He was our brother. But I had lost something they never had. He was _my_ brother. I loved my little brother.


	2. Humble Beginnings

_A hero of war  
__Yeah that's what I'll be  
__And when I come home  
__They'll be damn proud of me  
__I'll carry this flag  
__To the grave if I must  
_'_Cause it's a flag that I love  
__And a flag that I trust  
_—_Hero of War_

There was a time when I never thought I'd be separated from my brother. It was my job to watch over him, 'cause gods knew he'd find trouble. All little cubs did. Still, it was fun with him, big fun.

We lived a normal life. We were normal leopards, the both of us, just living with Mom happily. I never knew Dad too well, and I didn't really care. He showed up occasionally and left again. It didn't matter to me, and I could easily say who I loved more. Who fed us? Who cared for us? Who bathed us no matter how many times we protested? Mom.

Of course, back then I didn't call my brother "sir," and I sure as heck didn't sit at attention. If anything, he called _me_ "sir." I just called him Shaka, because that's what Mom said his name was. She also said my name was Akida, but I said I didn't want that. I wanted to be called The Most High Lord Ruler of the Universe.

My name's still Akida.

I suppose my life was normal up until Mom died. She gave birth to me, became pregnant, and gave birth to Shaka. The first time I really got a good look at him was after Mom had finished cleaning him up. He was just this little ball of fur that kept trying to scoot as close as he could to Mom. I suppose a girl would have called it cute.

Me, I just said, "There's no way I was a runt like that, Mom."

She chuckled. "You were. I promise."

"There's no way!"

"If you say so."

Well, he didn't stay a runt for all that long. He walked, he spouted gibberish for a few weeks until his first word was "Mommy," same as me, and I began to have fun with him. The roles were clearly defined. I was the big, protective brother, and he was the little brother who looked up to me, wanting to learn everything I knew.

At least, that's how it was in my head, then He looked out for me just as much as I did him. I may have stayed by his side a little more, but it was even, pretty much. We didn't bother counting. We loved each other, and that's what really mattered.

The time we spent with each other was all fun and games, just the usual. Tag, mud-fights, etc. Nothing really interesting. We were normal cubs. Sometimes we played with other cubs, but that was pretty much all the contact we had with others. Mom took very good care of us. It might even be called being overprotective.

Just me, Shaka, and Mom.

And them Mom was gone.

It was a hunting accident. It's common enough, but not to the relatives. Mom hated hunting; it kept her away from us. Anything could happen to us when she was taking down a buck. That may have been what did it; she may have been distracted. I'll never know.

My brother and I saw it all. We watched carefully every time she hunted; we'd be doing it ourselves someday. She burst from the grass and immediately began chasing down the herd of gazelle. Oddly enough, it was another mother that was the cause of her death. She leapt into the herd and received a horn.

We both gasped. Shaka immediately began to run down toward her. I tackled him and said, "Wait!" We had to wait. The herd had gone crazy. We were only cubs; we'd be crushed under those hooves.

We only waited for a couple more seconds before rushing down. "Mom! Mom!" the both of us yelled as we raced down there. "Mom!" She had her back turned to us. We had to run around to her head. "Mom!" There it was, an impalement in her chest. If it had been in her gut, there might have been some hope. But not her chest.

"Mom, are you alright?" asked Shaka, his voice terrified. We both had seen the wound, but it seemed so unreal. She'd get up in just a second and shake it off, telling us that was _not_ how to hunt. I still wish that had happened.

"Shaka . . . Akida . . . Mommy's—uh! Mommy's going to leave you . . ." Her voice was quiet, and we had to lean in close to hear.

"Mom, what do you mean?" I asked. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you. I won't be with you anymore."

"Mom, I don't understand," said Shaka.

"Shaka, you need to obey your—your brother. Akida, be a big leopard. Watch over . . ."

And she died.

It didn't register with me, or Shaka. "Mom? Mommy?" She'd just stopped talking. Shaka nuzzled her head, some blood trickling out of her mouth onto the grass. I knew it wasn't normal to bleed, especially from your mouth, but I still didn't realize it. I pressed myself against her, just as Shaka did, but we still didn't comprehend.

It wasn't until what seemed like hours later that I finally decided we needed to leave. Shaka was close to her, a foreleg draped over her as he cried. I was next to him, tears slipping down my muzzle. It was the worst feeling in the world. Nobody wants to leave someone dead. I felt like there was something we should do, but what _could_ we do? We were cubs.

"Shaka," I said, "we need to go."

"I don't want to leave Mom," he protested.

"There's gonna be predators out here. They're gonna come for her."

"You mean—they're gonna eat Mom?"

"That's what they do."

"They can't eat Mom! I won't let them."

"I don't want them to eat her either. But they're gonna eat us, too, if we don't leave."

"We can't leave Mom!"

"We have to," I said, feeling just as he did.

"I don't wanna leave Mom!"

"Mom said I was in charge. We have to go, Shaka."

"But—"

"Come on." I yanked at the nape of his neck, like Mom used to do all the time. I wasn't nearly big enough to carry him, but it got him up and moving. He reluctantly followed me, giving backward glances to Mom as we walked. So did I. It was the first family member I left behind. It wasn't the last. Not even close.

oOo

I wasn't a good father. I doubt any cub would be. I never knew how to hunt, and I needed consolation just as much as my brother did. We tried to find food to eat and tried to split evenly, but after a week, it was more first come, first serve. We argued, we fought, but more than that, we were scared silly. We'd sleep during the day, trying to avoid the predators at night.

One of the most constant questions was what we were going to do next. It was the only thing left on our minds; our carefree days were over. We were moving from place to place, trying to simply grow up, trying to stay alive.

Thankfully, this was one part of my life that I didn't have to go through for too long. It was a week, maybe two after Mom died, that we were finally adopted. It was just me and my brother walking near sunset when suddenly the air erupted with snarls and roars. It was terrifying; it sounded as if a many-headed beast was hot on our tails, begging for our blood. And that's exactly what it was.

We were still cubs, and when you're a cub, all you ever see is grass. The grass goes up high enough to cover everything you see, or at least everything you _want_ to see clearly. My brother and I tried to back away from the sounds, but before we knew it, we were surrounded. I heard a screaming yowl behind us and whirled around. A cheetah fell in front of us, his head rolling toward us, savagely torn from its body. I shit myself.

The roars continued for maybe another minute before I heard a voice yell over the savannah. "Clear over here!" Another echoed it, and then another. Silence filled the savannah, then someone unforgivably yelled, "Sir?" I heard movement through the grass, my brother and I coming together, making ourselves as small as we could.

I got my first glimpse of the Commander then. The first reaction was terror; a hyena with a blood-soaked muzzle staring down at me, several scars across his face. I protectively pushed my brother behind me as he tried to do the same for me. The Commander said nothing for a few moments before finally calling out in a gravelly voice, "Clear over here. On me!"

My brother and I stopped slowly backing away as we heard movement behind us—and then on our left, too, and our right. We pressed together, shaking as faces from all species surrounded us. "Whatja find, sir?" I heard.

"Couple of cubs out here," the hyena said. "They're not cheetahs."

"Probably wandered off from their mother, sir."

"They're not doing good. They don't even look good enough to eat."

"Aw, come on, don't say that. You're scaring 'em, look."

"What are we going to do, sir?" asked a leopard that caught my attention.

The Commander looked at us, as if studying us. He finally said, "Killjoy, Adabu, you two take them. We'll finish up the job. You try to find their parents. Meet us back at the den when you're done."

"Yes, sir," said the leopard, along with a cheetah.

"Move it out."

The animals left, all of them save that leopard and cheetah. The two of them looked down at us for a few moments, us just staring back up at them, trembling in fear. The leopard finally turned to the cheetah. "So . . . we gonna carry them?"

"Unless you two don't mind walking," said the cheetah, bending down toward us with a smile that seemed more like a leer. I stepped back, afraid. Bro, on the other paw, swiped him across the nose, the cheetah pulling back with a hiss.

The leopard laughed. "Shit, that's priceless."

"Shut it," snarled the cheetah.

"Owned by a cub."

"Then you do it!"

"Alright," said the leopard. He bent down just as the cheetah had. "No don't worry, we're not gonna hurt you," he said gently. I couldn't keep my eyes off how big his teeth seemed to be. "Now, do you know where your mommy is? Huh?"

"She's dead," Shaka said. He almost sounded angry.

The two cats looked at each other. "As in, you know, _dead_ dead?" asked the cheetah. The leopard smacked him on the back of the head. "What?"

"Don't say _that!_ Geez . . ." The leopard stared down at us. "Well, what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know . . . Why don't we just take them back to the Commander? See what he wants done with 'em?"

"What _could_ he do with 'em? They're tiny," said the leopard, looking down at us.

"Just grab one and bring it back to the group." Before I realized what was happening, the cheetah bent down and picked me up in his jaw by the scruff of the neck. I immediately began to struggle to get free, doing no good.

"Shaka, run!" I yelled. He did the one thing I didn't expect: he jumped up at the cheetah, landing on his muzzle, and sank his little claws into the cheetah's face. The cheetah dropped me in alarm, and the two of us started running as far and fast as we could, hearing the leopard laugh at the cheetah.

It took roughly fifteen seconds for them to catch us, each of them grabbing us by the scruffs of our necks. "Put me down!" I yelled. "Put me down, or so help me, you'll be sorry!" The cheetah snorted. We still both kicked and struggled the entire way back to the group.

It was my first view of the Askari as a real group. A cheetah was pressing down r'laka on an injured lion, stopping for a moment to smack another lion in the back of the head for licking a wound. The cheetah and leopard carrying us set us down, all of them gathering around. There was every kind of big cat, and even a vulture on the back of a hyena. Me and Shaka got as close as we could, trying to back away. I was scared out of my wits once again, and was sure that it was the end.

"I thought I told you to find their parents," said the Commander in his low, gravelly tone.

"They're dead, sir," said the leopard tonelessly.

"Dead?"

"Well, that's what the little guy said," said the cheetah. "Didn't know what to do, so we just brought 'em back here."

The commander just stared at us. We were a mess, both of us. We hadn't bathed in almost two weeks, we were starving, and we were both scared out of our minds by this band of killers. I honestly don't know what he was thinking. I never knew. He finally spoke: "Who wants to keep them?"

"Sir?" asked a lion.

"Why don't we keep them?" he asked. "Raise them."

"I really don't think a battlefield is any place for a cub, sir," said the leopard who had brought me here.

"You can teach them then," said the Commander.

"I—what?"

"Make them fit for the battlefield." The cheetah grinned, most likely proud that he didn't speak up. The Commander, I quickly learned, had a very strange, sadistic sense of humor. "And you're going to help him, Adabu."

"What?!"

"Get these two into fighting shape."

"You can't be serious," said Adabu. "They're cubs! And the little one hates me!"

"Then you'd better fix that. These are our two new members."

Let me explain something: anyone can join the Askari. All they need is a willingness to kill, and the ability to actually get along with our little family. We usually picked them up animals that wanted to come with after employing our services, and we usually weeded out the good from the bad within a week; the training is harsh. But we don't pick up cubs. Ever. We dropped them off with the next loving family we found and move on.

"Sir," said the leopard, "they're scared of us. All of us. I don't know if we can take them in. They may not even accept us."

"Get them some food." The Commander looked over and picked out the single female. "Kija, go get it."

"Sure." She ran off.

"Okay," said Adabu, "now that she's gone—why don't we give 'em to Kija? I mean, she's got to have some kind of maternal nature . . ."

The Commander fixed the cheetah with a steely glare. "You tell her, then."

Adabu fell silent.

"Now," said the Commander, watching us sneak slowly toward Kija's empty spot in the circle surrounding us, "why don't we just let them know we don't mean any harm? Just back off, give them some room. Act normal."

It took a few moments, but the group slowly dissipated. "Come on," I hissed, "now's our chance!"

Shaka shook his head. "They'll just catch us, bro."

"They're gonna eat us if we don't! Come on!"

"Haven't you heard them?" he said. "They wanna fight us, not eat us."

"We're gonna end up dead just the same! Didn't you see that cheetah with his head gone? They'll get us good, just like that!"

"Shh! Shut up!" he hissed. I turned to see what had attracted his attention. That cheetah and the leopard who had brought us here had come up behind us. I began to back away slowly, same as Shaka.

"Okay," said the cheetah with a sigh, "we're going to have to try to do this. I'm Adabu, and this here is Killjoy."

The leopard began, irritated, "My name is Jabali—"

"But everyone calls him Killjoy."

"But—"

"Because he is one."

"I am n—"

"So, I'm your new daddy, and he's your new mommy."

"Hey, why do I have to be the mommy?" said Killjoy angrily.

"Because you're the fucking queer," said Adabu dismissively.

"Hey, watch your language around the cubs!"

"Fine, you're the fucking _homosexual_."

"Thank you."

"So, now that you know our names, what's yours?" asked Adabu, smiling overenthusiastically.

"When you gonna kill us?" I asked.

Killjoy immediately started snickering, trying to hide it. Adabu cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "Er . . . I . . . Look, we're not gonna kill you."

"Then what are you keeping us for?" asked Shaka.

Adabu looked over at Killjoy. "What?" asked Killjoy.

"You're good with this stuff."

"No, I'm not."

"Just tell them."

"Well, why can't you?"

"I'll tell Kija you sniff her while she sleeps."

"I'm _gay_."

"She'll still ri—er, de-mas-cu-lin-ate you," Adabu said, looking down at me and Shaka.

"It's emasculate, stupid."

"Just tell them!"

Killjoy sighed. "Look," he said, looking at the two of us now, "the Commander—gods know why—wants us to actually keep you. You know, be part of the Askari."

"What's the Askari?" asked Shaka.

"We are. Just think of us as one big family."

"Well, what if we don't wanna be part of your family?" I asked.

"You really think you can do okay back out there?" asked Adabu. "I mean, we'll turn you loose, but you look _mangy_."

"We'll get by," I protested.

"Okay, look, how about this?" asked Killjoy. "You two come with us, and we'll get you food until we come to the next kingdom?"

"You know," interrupted Adabu, "why not leave 'em here?"

"You want to leave _cubs here?_ Are you _nuts?_"

"Fine, next kingdom," Adabu said, waving a paw dismissively. He flopped to the ground.

"As I was saying—how about it? You two come with us, and we'll drop you off at the next kingdom, safe and sound? How about it?"

I looked over at Shaka. He was looking at me; we both knew who was in charge. "Fine," I said. "We'll go. But we ain't gonna do nothin'—weird."

"Eh, what do you mean?" asked Killjoy.

"No funny tricks or nothing."

Adabu grinned as he rolled onto his back. "Sure thing, kid."

oOo

So we stayed. Me and my little brother, myself just shy of being a year old, both joined a band of ruthless, relentless killers. We fell asleep in the group of them that night, snuggling close to "Mommy" and "Daddy" for warmth, and I looked over them. Scarred and muscled, vicious and feared, yet one of the kindest families I'd ever seen. In only a few short months, even the thought of leaving them would be beyond me.


	3. Smarter, Better, Faster, Stronger

_The young recruit is 'ammered_—_'e takes it very hard;  
__'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters_—_'e sulks about the yard;  
__'E talks o' "cruel tyrants" which 'e'll swing for by-an'-by,  
__An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry._

_The young recruit is silly_—_'e thinks o' suicide.  
__'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride;  
__But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit,  
__Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit._

—_The 'eathen_

I was woken the next morning by a rough, rude shake, snapping wide awake instantly. I hadn't slept easy ever since the accident with Mom. "Come on!" I heard. I looked up to see Adabu above me. "Up and at 'em. Big meal and we're moving out."

"Huh? But the sun ain't even up . . ."

"Yeah, get used to it. And you can see it creeping up over there . . ."

"Adabu, those cubs up?" I heard the Commander call.

"They're up, sir!" he called back.

"Then why aren't they over here?"

"They're coming right now, sir!" Adabu glared down at me and Shaka. "Don't make a liar out of me."

"Where's Mommy?" asked Shaka, standing up.

"She left me like the hussy she is. Now come on, get over there," he said, pushing us both on the rear as he herded us toward the group. "I never asked to be a father . . ."

"We never said we were gonna follow none of your rules," I reminded him.

"You're with us, you follow our rules. That's that," said Adabu. We stopped at the back of the group. "All reported for, sir."

"Don't be late again," said the Commander. I could imagine him looking at us almost with distaste. It was kind of hard to actually see him through all those legs. "Move it out!"

We started walking. Shaka asked the obvious question: "Where we goin'?"

"To get food."

"Mom always got food for us."

"Yeah, well, it's not polite this time to not go. So you're going."

"Why?"

Adabu sighed. "Killjoy!" he called out.

Killjoy shifted to the back of the group so he was with us. "What's up?"

"Explain things to them."

"That's real helpful. Explain what?"

"What we do."

"All of it?"

"Sure, why not?"

Killjoy looked down at us and said, with a completely straight face, "We kill guys."

"No shit, you think?"

"Well, I think that pretty much sums it up."

"You're a douche, you know that?"

"That isn't even a word!"

"What isn't?"

"Douche."

"Well, it just seems right for you, you know?" said Adabu with a smug smirk. Killjoy shoved him.

"Well, from what this 'douche' seems to be saying," said Killjoy, "what you want to know is that we go from place to place, and we just keep going. We check to see if the current place has any work for us—"

"That means killing guys," interrupted.

"As I was saying, if they have work for us, we stay, do the job, and in return, get a home for a while. And then it's back to moving around."

"You guys don't have a home?" I asked.

"Well, who would want a bunch of killers as neighbors?"

"But you guys seem nice," said Shaka. I glared at him and his lowered his head, ears flat against it.

"Yeah, the Commander's pretty good about that. Says we're more civilized than most civvies ever will be."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that we're a lovable, huggable, polite band of roving thugs," said Adabu with a grin.

"It _means_," said Killjoy, "that we don't tolerate any disrespect—at least none that isn't deserved. It's something you'll have pounded into your head by the time you're done with us, same as any recruit."

"We're not staying," I reminded him.

"Right. We forgot," said Adabu with a grin. The grin only grew wider as I walked into the back of a leg; the group had stopped.

"What are you smiling at?" I snapped.

"Come on," said Killjoy, before Adabu had time to respond. "Get in ranks." He picked me up by the scruff of the neck, me kicking and squirming, then set me down at the end of a line alongside a lion, Adabu and Shaka sitting on the other side of Killjoy. I looked up at the lion as he stared down at me, not anything close to a smile on his face. "Hi," I said.

"Hmm," he grunted. And that was it.

"Sit down, face forward, and sit up straight," hissed Killjoy. I reluctantly followed what he told me to do, seeing Shaka do the same.

I tried to sit up straight, I really did, but I couldn't help glancing out down the line. The Commander was talking to a lion. I was too far down to hear anything, except the Commander suddenly saying firmly, "Every last one." My eyes got distracted by the sight of several lionesses tugging plump, full carcasses toward us. The lion and the Commander talked for a short time longer, then the Commander turned to us.

"Boys, the king here would like to thank you for your service to this kingdom. And as a way of doing so, we have one last meal here with the pride."

All of the Askari boomed out in unison, "Thank you, sir!"

"Have at it," said the Commander. He turned away, and on cue, the Askari surged forward, surrounding the carcasses. Killjoy and Adabu picked me and Shaka up and took us to one along with a lion and another cheetah. I could see the Commander and the king talking before I was far too distracted by the carcass in front of me to pay attention to anything else.

Killjoy pulled me back from the carcass, doing the same to Shaka. "Stop inhaling it and act civilized."

"But I'm _so_ hungry!" protested Shaka.

"Yeah, me too!"

"You're not going to eat like uncivilized slobs; you're going to eat like Askari."

"But—"

"No buts! Just eat."

"That's what we were tryin' to do," I said, starting back on the carcass.

It was one of the most annoying experiences in my life. I was starving, literally starving—and here was Killjoy trying to get me to eat "normally." There are some things that you just let a guy do—one of them is letting a starving guy eat.

The meal was finished painfully slowly for me at least, and Shaka didn't look like he was enjoying it either. But, in the end, we'd both eaten at least half our weight in meat. It was only a few minutes after we had finished that the Commander called out, "Askari! Form up!" Killjoy and Adabu moved us over to the line again, all of us standing this time. They assumed their position amazingly quickly, no bickering or pushing at all. "Askari! Move it out!"

We began following the commander in that single-file line, Killjoy in front of me, Shaka and Adabu behind me bringing up the rear. It was completely silent. We kept walking that way for a half hour before the Commander finally called out, "Alright boys, show's over."

The line almost immediately broke, the Askari falling into little pockets. There was an almost unanimous exhale. I ran up by Killjoy's side. "What's that all about?"

"Just putting on a little show for the civvies. See, the Askari's more than just a few guys like us. It's a reputation. There's no one better at what we do." He looked down at me with a grin. "Sure you don't want to stay?"

"Just drop us off at the next kingdom you come to," I said.

"Until that time, however, you're going to be following our rules," said the Commander. I jumped. Somehow he'd gone from at the front of the line to right behind me.

I looked up at him. "That's not fair! We're just asking to go to somewhere safe!"

"How do you expect to pay for that?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"We don't take jobs without getting paid. Now you can either pay—or you can be an Askari for a short while. Or you can do neither and just go your own way."

I looked over at my brother. He was just as bad as I was; we were both near starvation, our bones almost showing through our pelts. This was nothing less than extortion, and the Commander fully knew it. It was only for a week, though, until we could get to somewhere where we'd find a new home, could start new lives.

"Fine," I said. "We'll do it your way."

oOo

The Commander's way turned out to be one of the more painful experiences I've had. They put me through what they would expect any full-grown trainee would go through: muscle-building (on cubs whose bodies weren't meant for muscle, and were lacking any meat at all), sparring with animals up to five times our size, endless memorization of the favored techniques and strategies of various species, stealth, and where to land the most deadly and precise killing blows.

We weren't trained on one thing one day and another the next. We had the whole regimen rammed down our throat day after day. Killjoy had a seemingly perfect memory for our progress—the only one who had a better one was the Commander, who often saw fit to oversee our training.

We would get up in the morning at dawn, usually woken by Adabu and Killjoy, dragged ourselves to our tired, worn-out paws, and went through the standard exercises—all of them which involved lifting our own weight in some form or another. Using a single foreleg to press our bodies back and forth against a tree, pressing a foreleg backwards against a resisting Askari—most of everything was intended to increase our swipes.

While we were walking, Killjoy would drill us about the animals that we had been taught. We were required to know the strengths and weaknesses of each animal. There was a surprising variety. Leopards such as myself are good all-around fighters—able to hold our ground through pretty much anything. We're never truly at a disadvantage, unlike just about everyone else. We're deadly, even alone—_especially_ if we have the drop on someone.

Cheetahs are lightning fast and lethal—until they wear themselves out. They're weaker than leopards and use more of a hit-and-run tactic, constantly evading while doing minimal damage. They can only keep up their speed for so long before tiring. Askari cheetahs are trained against it, but it still shows, at least in the wrestling matches we have—you want to beat a cheetah, wear him down and move in for the kill.

Hyenas are easily the weakest of any animal. Little dog-like things that have almost nothing except one hell of a bite. I would later experience firsthand the pain of having to cut a hyena's jaws off of a leg even after it had died. They grab on and don't let go. However, if you avoid that, you can smash them down quickly. Unfortunately, they have the annoying habit of living in clans—which means you'll almost never find them alone. Going against a pack of hyenas when you're on your own spells almost certain death.

Lions, however, are something that it can be both a blessing and a curse to face alone. They are, as Adabu so politely put it, "giant walking balls of rape." They are strong—but they're slow. The females, lionesses, are just as bad as leopards, but the males are too bulky to move quickly. Their blows are almost always debilitating—but those same motions, while powerful, leave them open to attack if they aren't trained well. They have manes on their neck that prevent them from having an easy kill—so you have to disable them before moving in too close. Even a wounded lion is deadly.

Another curious animal, though one that is rarely encountered on the battlefield, is a bird. We had a couple following us around, hawks, that usually rode on the backs of some Askari when not gliding. Birds serve as spies, or, in a flock, can be the death of even a squad of Askari. They all dive down, beaks and talons outstretched, ripping and tearing before flying off—and you're never able to injure or kill more than a few. The best thing to do is find a cave.

The strangest creature that I've found in my entire life, however, and easily the most deadly, was fortunately a member of the Askari. There are only a few of his kind left—I had the fortune of meeting a few, and thankfully they weren't hostile. We had gotten through all of the animals of the Askari when I asked, "What about him?"

Killjoy and Adabu looked over. "Oh, Shujaa? Nah, never mind him. You won't see any of those. They're peaceful."

"But what is he?"

"He's a jagabor."

"A what?"

"A jagabor."

"Well, how do you fight those?"

"You don't fight those. You piss one off, you turn tail and run."

oOo

It was nighttime that gave us the only peace we had. We would sit down, and watch Adabu, Killjoy, and whoever their unfortunate "volunteer" was show us just how to fight. We finally got to get off our tired paws and relax and learn. We'd have to get up and demonstrate what we'd learn—and usually get knocked right down. We hadn't quite learned how to control our bodies.

Still, nighttime became more and more of a family time for me. We would get the chance to relax (neither Adabu or Killjoy wanted to train for too long—well maybe Killjoy), and we got to see the Askari as friends—maybe a little more. They joked around, used adult humor that started me swearing at a very young age—and pretty much treated both me and my brother as adults, leading to a very awkward and messed-up youth.

About two weeks after they picked me up, we finally got to a kingdom. The way we travel is simple: every morning, someone picks a direction, and we start walking. We don't stop, not until we either stop for the night or come across a kingdom. It's a very inefficient way of getting from place to place—but who said they wanted to get anywhere?

As soon as we got to the border and found the scent markings, the Commander stopped the group, then had brought us over. "Alright you two, time to go. Go ahead and say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" asked Shaka.

"Goodbye. They'll be someone here willing to take you in—they're good people."

"Oh," he said quietly. I had to admit, that pretty much summed it up. I never actually expected the whole experience to end. We were just going to be travelling with them until we stopped, or dropped dead—one of the two.

"What?" asked the commander. "You boys got objections?"

"No sir," I said quickly.

"Good." He turned to the group. "I'll be back in a while boys—Killjoy, you're in charge."

"What?!" someone blurted out as the commander turned.

"You heard him," I heard Killjoy say, almost gloatingly, as I followed the commander.

The walk into the kingdom was in silence. There was nothing spoken between us and the Commander; he seemed to know exactly where he was going. I felt Shaka nudge me. "Do we really have to leave, Akida?"

I looked away from him. "They're not what Mom would have wanted," I said quietly.

"Well, what would Mom have wanted?" he asked.

It was a good question. I didn't really have an answer to that. She'd wanted me to watch over him . . . and that was all I knew of. Find a good, loving family, I supposed, would be the next logical step—and that was what we were doing right now. But living a good life—well, that seemed to be just as important. But would it really seem like a life, now that I knew what was out there? Out there was adventure, excitement, danger—wherever out there was. I knew that. The Askari had been more than happy to tell me that. Yes, they would probably come back to this kingdom at some time—but how many years would pass in between?

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"Akida . . . I wanna stay with them," said Shaka. "I like them."

"I know," I said. I looked down at him. "Well . . . maybe you should ask him if we could turn around."

"We can't," said the Commander, making us both jump slightly. He'd been listening to the entire conversation.

"But—sir—I thought you accepted anyone," I said.

"We do—but I don't waste any trips," he said. "We're going to see the king."

The Commander has an uncanny way of reading animals. He hadn't even walked toward the leopard area—he'd gone straight for the pride. He knew when someone was sick, when someone was down—and he seemed to know exactly what to say to someone at any time, even if the purpose was to make them soldier on a little longer, instead of giving them happiness. One of the first times I realized this was when he looked back at the two of us, a smile on his hyenic lips, saying, "You don't think I'd give up you two that easily, do you?"

We didn't find work in the kingdom. We were told to please leave—with much less please and much more "get the hell out of here, mercenary." No one treated us any differently when we walked back with the commander—it was as if we had never left.

We kept moving, and the training only got worse. I learned later what the Commander was doing. He had an idea in his head, and he usually went through with his ideas. He wanted a perfect soldier, a perfect Askari. Me and Shaka were the closest he was going to get to that chance, save the Headhunters, but they don't really count.

Being the limited commodities that we were, we were spared no training. When you create something, you hammer away at it, defining the rough shape, before you soften and work on the details. By the age of two we were masters of stealth. By three, either of us could take on almost any Askari in a fair fight and beat them. By the age of four, groups became no problem for me at all. I could carry out an entire mission by myself if need be.

By the age of one and a half I forgot fear.

We got a job about a week after we left the kingdom where they were going to drop me and Shaka off. It was a typical hunt-and-destroy mission, where there weren't any prisoners. The Commander looked over our weary, battered bodies and asked, "You boys wanna come?"

Killjoy, ever our mother, was the first to say, "Sir, I don't think—"

The Commander glared at him and he fell silent. He asked again, "You boys wanna come?"

Askari don't say no.

Adabu had taught us one thing about combat, and it's one thing that I feel kept him reasonably sane—enjoy yourself. Stay alert, remain vigilant—but above all, relax. It sounds paradoxical, but it's one of the scariest things I've learned. Most Askari have a certain kind of zen on the battlefield, where violence has become a habit, something thoughtless and almost effortless. They fight as though they breathe, some of them going as far to consider it almost a game.

As this was my first time fighting, I wasn't anywhere near this. It took effort to remember just what to do in any instance—and I was most definitely not ready. I came nevertheless, not wanting to seem like a coward. Me and Shaka were placed with Mommy and Daddy, who apparently almost never worked in a squad. Needless to say, this wasn't the most happy arrangement.

The job was simple: take out a pride that was edging in on our customer's land. We did it the day after we got the job; the element of surprise was crucial. We attacked when the hunting parties were out, one squad going after each one. Adabu, Killjoy and I led the attack on the den. Our task was to kill the royalty and intimidate the lionesses that were left in the cave, presumably those too weak or old to hunt. It was a good plan.

The four of us slunk toward the den, taking places outside the entrance, unseen. We waited for a moment, until we heard a roar, presumably from one of the hunting parties. Killjoy nodded and we rushed in, finding three surprised lions and several lionesses. I was shaking.

Killjoy and Adabu tackled one each, hoping to get rid of them before they became too much of a problem. Me and Shaka went for the last one, stopping dead when we saw him towering above us. He laughed—not the smartest thing to do when you're under attack, but you have to understand that we were a joke. He was the smallest lion, yet was at least three times our size. He swatted at us, the two of us jumping nimbly out of the way.

We weren't expected to kill the lion, simply incapacitate him or, at worst, keep him busy while we waited for help. There were several spots on the body that you can attack to incapacitate immediately, though they weren't meant for someone as small as us. However, there is one attack that works for someone no matter their size. Shaka darted forward as I leapt at his face. He shook me off quickly, then roared out as Shaka bit hard into his testicles, ripping one clean off before trying for the next.

The lion staggered against the wall, undoubtedly in horrific pain before he slumped to the ground. I went for his vulnerable throat, biting at it, his paws hammering at my back. I tore with all my might, seeing the beast gasp and shake under me before his last bit of life had drained. I looked down to see Shaka finished with his part, and both Adabu and Killjoy snarling at the lionesses, forcing them back into the back of the cave, terrifying them with their bloodied jaws and claws. I was almost as terrified as them, though not for the same reason.

The Commander arrived a while later, flanked by his squad, informing us that the rest of the Askari were performing cleanup and would be there in a second. After they came, we'd finish off the survivors. Two Askari took me and Shaka's spots, relieving us, the Commander taking us to the side. He smiled down at us. "Good job," he said. "Both of you."

"Thank you, sir!" said Shaka, both of our chests swelling with pride.

"So, this is your first kill . . . you boys like it?"

I looked over at the slain lion, terror etched on its face. I had killed it myself—it was I who had taken its last breath. The very thought made a chill run up my spine. "Er—yes, sir," I said.

The Commander nodded. "Very well. Adabu!" he called.

"Yessir!"

"Give Big Cub here ten lashes."

"Sir?"

"Now."

"Yessir!" he said.

I stared in horror as Adabu left his post, another Askari taking his spot. I have no clear memory of how it happened, only that I was ordered to turn, and then there was pain. I was given a clear lesson that day, and so was my brother.

We kill animals in the Askari. We massacre them, we maim them, we torture them, we commit atrocities. We do not enjoy it.


End file.
